


Imagine Me and You - I Do

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Inception
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Getting Back Together, M/M, Sappy Ending, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the job's over Eames shows up at Arthur's hotel door. It's been years since they were last together. Arthur doesn't want to let him in this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imagine Me and You - I Do

 Arthur’s next flight is delayed for 24 hours. He debates for five seconds and then takes a taxi and checks into a hotel for the night. He doesn’t really mind about the delay. After the job, it’s a relief to not be on a plane.

His body feels older, still working out the kinks. He’s worked in dreams for a long time now, and this is the first time where he can physically feel the toll.

At the hotel he takes a shower and doesn’t think about Eames. It should be easy to not think about Eames. He’s not thought about Eames in years, and then Cobb had to go and bring him in.

Arthur's known where Eames is of course. He always knows where Eames is. Sometimes there’s a month or two where Eames glides off the map and Arthur thinks this time, he'll let him. In the end he never does. He takes a perverse pleasure in knowing the trouble Eames gets himself into (that job in Tokyo last year, what the hell had Eames been thinking?) and then out again. Because Eames always gets himself out again. He sorts the trouble and works it out, and smiles his way through life.

Arthur switches off the shower and reaches for a towel.

There’s a knock at the door. He’s forgotten that he ordered a fresh pot of coffee.

“Just a sec.” He secures the towel more firmly around his waist before glancing through the peephole. He stops, hand on the door handle.

“Arthur.”

Arthur takes a deep breath and then pulls the door open. “Why are you here?”

He should have put on pants. He should have slammed the door in Eames’s face. Instead he watches Eames drinking in the sight of him in a towel.

Eames’s takes a long long look and then recollects himself. “I thought we could have a drink and, possibly…”

“No.” Arthur starts to shut the door.

“Just talk.” Eames is halfway in the doorway by now, and he’s too close. Arthur wishes he didn’t remember how to felt to be pressed in close by those arms, to be held. But he does. His body remembers everything and his mind won’t let him forget.

“It’s never just talk with you.” Arthur says, but he steps back and lets Eames in.

 *  *  *

The first time he let Eames in was after their very first job together. There had been a lot of firsts on that one. The first time he’d had to kill someone within a dream. He was still shaking, trembling with adrenaline and excitement. And he’d kissed Eames there in the hallway of his grimy little hotel.

Eames had tilted his face up to the blinking overhead light and kissed him back.

They had slept together in his cramped hotel room, and Eames had kissed him until Arthur didn’t remember what it was to not know his lips. Arthur hadn’t regretted it at the time because he was too young to know better back then.

 *  *  *

“One drink and then you can leave.”

There’s another knock. Finally, the coffee. Arthur goes to get it while Eames pours himself a drink.

Arthur pulls a bill from his wallet on the dresser and tips the waiter before closing the door. He looks up to see Eames studying the coffee tray.

“Planning a late night?”

“My flight got delayed.” Arthur digs through his suitcase until he finds a t-shirt and pajama pants. He doesn’t want to be undressed around Eames. He doesn’t want to get dressed in his clothes again either. He wishes the man would just leave.

“I know.” Eames says.

Arthur gives him a look.

“After that…” Eames scratches the back of his neck, like he doesn’t know what to say about any of it. That’s new. Eames always has a ready-made explanation, excuse, persuasive argument. _”Darling, of course we should take that job in Switzerland, they’ll never know it was us.”_ He’s never without words.

“When Cobb said he was working with you…” Eames trails off again.

“I was surprised you took the job.” Arthur’s still standing there, holding his pajamas.

Eames looks at him. “How could I resist?”

He sets down his drink. He hasn’t even touched it. That’s not like him either. Suddenly Arthur needs coffee more than he needs to get dressed. He puts the bundle of clothes on the dresser and reaches for the coffee pot.

“Arthur.”

“If you’re not going to drink that, you can just go.”

“I’d rather stay.” Eames’s voice is very soft.

“Funny.” Arthur adds a splash of cream and stirs his coffee. “That’s not what you said before.”

When he glances over his shoulder he catches sight of Eames’s face. It takes him a moment to recognize the emotion he sees there. Strange, he’s never thought Eames regretted anything at all.

“Has it ever occurred to you that that was a mistake and I might have realized it since then?”

“You’re the one who left.” Arthur rubs at his forehead tiredly. He doesn’t want to go through this again. It’s done. They’re done. They’ve been done for a long time now. Talking about it isn’t going to change the past.

“I’ve missed you.” Eames whispers.

“Don’t do this to me.” Arthur takes a sip of coffee. “There’s no point.”

“Arthur.” Eames is moving towards him now. He stands in front of Arthur, searching his face carefully. “Tell me one thing.”

“That tie is terrible.” Arthur says without missing a beat.

The corners of Eames’s mouth curve into a smile. Arthur knows exactly how it would feel to kiss that smile. He wants to remember it anew. He takes another sip of coffee.

“Tell me you didn’t enjoy working with me again.” Eames is standing close enough that Arthur would barely have to move at all to kiss the patch of skin at the v of his unbuttoned shirt. The tie hangs loosely around Eames’s neck. “Tell me you were sorry I was there, and I’ll go.”

The trouble with Eames is he’s always known exactly when and where and why Arthur would never lie. Eames lies when it’s necessary, when it’ll save him trouble later, and when it suits him. Lies are part of him like the way he chuckles when he's amused, or how he never leaves a poker table without winning at least three hands.

“Arthur.” Eames leans in. “Tell me you don’t miss me when you dream.”

Arthur clears his throat. “I thought I didn’t have enough imagination for that.”

Eames winces.

He gazes at Eames, wondering what he’ll try to say next, what he’ll do to persuade Arthur the past isn’t long gone. The whole prospect of it is exhausting. The coffee is cooling in the cup. Arthur reaches for the pot and Eames’s fingers touch his wrist.

“I see you.” Eames’s fingertips trace gently over the fine points of Arthur’s wrist. “It’s my favorite time of day, when I’m walking with you in my dreams.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Arthur starts, and then Eames kisses him.

He nudges Arthur up against the dresser, holding his wrist, as his lips alight on Arthur’s mouth in a series of sweet, enticing kisses. They leave Arthur hungry and restless.

“Tell me you’ve not missed me these past years.” Eames murmurs into Arthur’s mouth. “Tell me.”

“I still love you, okay?” Arthur pulls his head back. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes.” Eames’s hand rests on Arthur’s stomach, right above his towel. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He tugs at the towel and it drops to the floor.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Arthur says.

“It does to me.” Eames says back.

“Sometimes things are over, Eames.”

“And sometimes things go on.” Eames kneels.

“What’re you-“ Arthur grips the dresser as Eames mouths at the head of his dick. “You don’t-“

God, he’s missed this. Arthur leans back against the dresser as Eames holds him by the hips. He misses the feel of Eames’s tongue, warm and delicate on him. He misses the way Eames used to tease him for hours, drawing him apart one breath at a time. He misses Eames.

He places a hand on Eames’s hair and tugs. Eames pulls off, gazing up at him.

“What is it, darling?”

Arthur ignores the way his heart dances painfully at that endearment. “I need to know why now.” There’s been plenty of chances before this job. Eames could have picked up the phone anytime. And this, a blowjob in a hotel, doesn’t mean anything’s changed at all. Eames could still leave.

“You need to know that right now?”

Eames’s breath is hot on his dick.

Arthur swallows, “Yes.” He does.

Eames sits back on his knees, still gazing at him. His thumb is pressed into the curve of Arthur’s hip. “I realized exactly how long and how short life is. I’ve watched Cobb outrun his memories all the while trying to hold on to them for dear life. I’ve run all over this globe and dabbled in everything that took my fancy, and I still wake up in the middle of the night reaching for you.” He rises up on his knees. “I’ve loved you for over a decade now, and I’ve missed you for half of that.” His hands stroke Arthur’s hips. “I don’t want to miss you anymore, Arthur.”

Is that enough? Arthur doesn’t know. He knows that Eames might never change. He might always just be slightly out of reach. He might blame this on the job and nostalgia in the morning.

He might not.

“Arthur.”

Arthur cups Eames’s face in his hands, and leans down to kiss him.

“I take it that you missed me too.” Eames says when he can speak again.

“You get one chance to prove this isn’t a mistake.” Arthur’s eyes are serious. “Don’t push it.”

Eames gets to his feet. “Then I’d better make the most of it.”

 *  *  *

In bed Eames straddles Arthur. His hands remember how Arthur likes to be held, pressing him into the covers. His mouth is coaxingly familiar on Arthur’s skin.

 *  *  *

It’s five years ago and Arthur is waking in bed to find Eames gone. The blankets around him are cold. He waits at the hotel for the remainder of the day, even though he already knows Eames isn’t coming back.

 *  *  *

It’s now and Arthur arches upward with a moan, gasping as Eames sinks deeper inside him. His legs tighten around the forger’s waist. He wants more. He wants to never let Eames go. He clutches at Eames’s back, holding on to this moment.

 *  *  *

After – Eames breathes a deep sigh of contentment. He’s lying beside Arthur in bed and looking for all the world as though he intends to stay there forever.

“Why did you really come back?” Arthur murmurs sleepily.

“I realized something.” Eames rests his head in his hand, gazing at Arthur.

“What was that?”

“I have enough imagination for both of us.”

Arthur takes the opportunity to hit him with his pillow.

“About tomorrow.”

Eames wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “Let tomorrow look after itself.”

 *  *  *

It’s tomorrow and Arthur goes out to grab a paper and coffee before Eames can wake up. When he gets back Eames’s clothes are laid out on the bed. He can hear Eames in the shower, humming to himself.

Arthur sets the coffee down, tosses the paper on the chair. This is how it’s going to go. He knew it. He’s a goddamn fool.

Eames walks out of the shower naked, drying his hair with his towel. Arthur allows himself a look at his tattoos because this will be the last time. He’s not going through this again.

“There you are.” Eames rubs at his hair. “So I was thinking after the Madrid job we’d meet in Paris.”

Arthur’s not listening. His attention is caught by the tattoo on Eames’s chest just below his heart. He missed it last night in the dark.

“Arthur?” Eames says very gently. “Arthur, are you listening? I was proposing that we-“

“When did you get that?” Arthur’s voice is hoarse.

Eames glances down at the tapestry that is his body. “You’ll have to be more specific, darling.”

“You know which one I mean.”

Eames’s fingers brush over it for a second. “A few years ago.”

“And you never.” Arthur cuts himself off. “Goddamnit, Eames.”

“I’m here now.” Eames goes to him, gripping Arthur’s shirt. “I’m here. There’s still time.”

“Is there?” There’s a scattering of water drops still along Eames’s shoulder, waiting for Arthur to wipe them away with his tongue.

“Yes.” Eames sounds sure of this. “As long as you want it, there’s time enough, and world.”

“Misquoting isn’t going to help your case.”

Eames brushes his thumb along Arthur’s cheekbone. “You know what I mean.”

Arthur sighs. He lets himself just stand there, with Eames’s hands touching him. Then he thinks back. “What Madrid job?”

“It’s short, should be done in a few days.” Eames leans in to kiss his collarbone. “So, Paris.”

“You really want to go to Paris.”

“Why not?”

“Why?” Arthur asks back.

“Because the last time we were in Paris-”

“Don’t remind me.” Arthur’s smiling in spite of himself. He remembers Paris.

“Meet me in Paris.” Eames kisses his mouth, teasing his lower lip. “I promise-“

“Nope, no promises.” Arthur stops that right in its tracks. “Not this time. Just tell me when and where.”

“And you’ll be there?”

“Yeah.” Arthur says at last. “I’ll be there.” He has time to change his mind. But as his palm skims over the design on Eames’s chest, he already knows that’s not going to happen. It’s a little thing, perhaps, but that small intricate design is enough.

Eames turns his head and kisses his mouth, pressing Arthur’s hand flat over his tattoo.

*  *  *

Three years ago – a tattoo parlor in London. Eames strips his shirt off and sits back in the chair.

The tattoo guy taps the paper. “This what you want?”

“That’s it.”

“Got a gambling problem or a lucky streak?” The guy reaches for his tattoo gun.

“Neither.” Eames closes his eyes. He doesn’t have to watch as the guy gets to work. He designed it himself.

The tattoo artist shrugs. He gets to work on the design. It’s simple enough, a small red die in the center of a poker chip.


End file.
